A Marked Man
by Dhrelva
Summary: Severus Snape becomes a teacher at Hogwarts. Minerva accidently discovers something she shouldn't.
1. Chapter 1

  


A Marked Man  
By Kris Daniels

  
  


* * *

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts, and all else you recognize are sadly not mine. They belong to JK Rowlings. 

Summary: Severus Snape comes to teach at Hogwarts, and Minerva McGonagall accidently discovers his secret. 

Note on Time: Based on the assumption that Voldemort was first defeated Halloween, 1981, and the first HP book began in 1991. 

* * *

  
**August 7, 1979**  
  
He was, he supposed, an unusual sight. Torn robes, bloody face, black hair tangled and no doubt sticking up in crazy directions. Not naturally unruly, like Potter's, but sticky and stiff from dried and drying blood. Not all of it was even his. The blood, not the hair. The hair was all his own. Black, and long, and dirty. Despite his battered appearance, he strood across the lawn between forest and castle with brisk, ground-eating strides that even healthy men would envy. 

His black eyes darted about, seeking people, but finding none. No students this time of year. No professors in sight. No sign of the groundskeeper, either. Pathetic. He was almost to the castle now, and nobody had yet challenged him. As far as he could tell, no one knew he was even on the property. And his Lord feared this place? He wasn't sure which he should disdain more. 

The side door he had arrived at was even unlocked. Pitiful. He pushed it open and stepped inside the castle. Still, no one. He sneered. True, it was summer break, but this lack of protection was ridiculous. After the HeadMaster found himself face to face with a Death Eater with a drawn wand, he expected it would be remedied, but by then it would be far too late. Fortunately for Dumbledore, _this_ Death Eater didn't intend to use his wand for anything but putting it on the Headmaster's desk. 

He found the gargoyle to the Dumbledore's office without difficulty. It had only been two years since he had graduated himself, so the school was easily navigated. "Lemon drops?" he hazarded. "Bertie Botts, Chocolate Frog, Pumpkin Fizz," he continued, throwing out every kind of sweet he could think of. "Dragon Pop, Sugar Quill, Licorice Stick, Cinnimon Bun, Sti-" the gargoyle jumped aside before he could finish saying 'sticky roll'. 

He stepped onto the moving spiral stair, and rode up to the door at the top, where he turned the knob and stepped inside without knocking. The old wizard looked up, surprised that someone would enter without fair warning, but he greeted him as though seeing him was nothing out of the ordinary. "Hello, Severus." 

Severus grabbed his wand and slapped it down on the center of the desk with enough force to shake the frames of several past Headmasters. He then stepped back and crossed his arms. The Headmaster looked down at the wand, then up at his former student. Severus did not look away. The corner of Dumbledore's mouth twitched, but his eye's twinkle was conspicously absent. "You look . . . vexed." He didn't mention the blood or the wand. Severus wasn't sure if that should surprised him or not. 

"This school is atrociously defended, Dumbledore. What if I had been sent to kill you?" 

A small smile. "You would have collapsed at the Apparation line, without getting in, and alerted the Ministry of your location. Since you weren't, I had Minerva unlock the side door for you." 

Severus blinked. Subtle defences, then. "I could have changed my mind once I passed there." 

The Headmaster shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "You didn't," he pointed out. Severus only grunted in reply. "Should I call up Poppy for your face?" Dumbledore asked, changing the subject. 

Severus touched the crusted blood as though he'd forgotten about it. "Scalp wound. Bled a lot, but essentially harmless." 

"A cleaning spell, then." He drew his own wand and cast a simple charm in Severus' direction. His first inclination was to try to dodge it, but then he squashed the instinct, recognizing the spell as non-threatening. He felt a mild tingle, and touched his forehead again. His fingers met only skin. 

"Thank you," he said gruffly, crossing his arms again. 

"It was nothing you couldn't have done," Dumbledore dismissed the thanks, and Severus wondered if he was too stupid to realize they were something he rarely gave, or if he was deftly manipulating the conversation. Well, he'd comply. That was what he had come here for in the first place. 

"Not with my wand on your desk, I can't," Severus denied bitterly, as though he hadn't voluntarily put it there without being asked. 

"Ah, yes. Your wand." The Headmaster's disappreared back up his sleeve, and he picked up Severus's ten inches of ebony and phoenix tail feather. "Why did you give this to me?" He looked up, locking gazes with the Death Eater. Severus was almost certain the old man already knew exactly what was going on. 

"To break it." The old man wanted to play games? Then he could deal with literal answers. 

"Why would I want to do that?" He was after a confession then. Severus's eyes narrowed in irritation, though he knew he should have expected it. The Headmaster wanted to know his sins? Fine. Severus would tell him. Hopefully he could shock the old man. 

"Why would you want to?" he repeated in a low voice that would frighten most people who knew him. "Because, with that wand I have cast seventeen adava cadavras, twice that imperios, and I can't even count the number of crucios anymore," Severus answered, his eyes never leaving the Headmaster's, and his voice staying calm and even. Just discussing the weather, here. "Then there were all those Dark potions and poisons I brewed for my Lord, which if properly applied, surely accounted for another hundred or so deaths or tortures. If you'd dare to cast prior incantium on that wand, I've done twenty-four of that, as well." 

The Headmaster did not look away for what seemed a very long time. Severus did not waver nor fidget. Finally, the old man broke the contact, and half-curiously, half in dread, cast the suggested spell. A small, pale, ghostly version of the Dark Mark formed in the air between them. "I'm a Death Eater, Albus," he whispered into the stiff silence. He wondered what had possessed him to call the Headmaster by his first name. Shock value, perhaps. _He_ certainly had no right to use the given name. 

Another long moment passed. Then the Headmaster wrenched his eyes from the ghostly Mark. A wave of his own innocent wand dispelled it. "You were," he agreed finally. 

Severus scowled and shook his head. Rolling back his left sleeve, he displayed his own Mark. "I _am_, Headmaster. You can't make this one go away. Break my wand and be done with it." 

"Why me? Why come through the trouble of coming to Hogwarts? The Ministry would have long since carried out your request. Tea?" he asked suddenly, as if mentioning the Ministry reminded him of acting like a proper host. 

"No tea, thank you," Severus replied, somewhat taken aback. 

"At least sit down, I'm getting a crick in my neck looking up at you." 

Uncomfortably, Severus lowered himself to perch on the edge of one of the chairs. He had no right to be comfortable tonight. Or any night, really. 

"Why Hogwarts?" Dumbledore redirected the conversation. 

For the first time, Severus looked away from him. "I don't know." Cowardice, but he didn't even have the bravery to admit that. Self-preservation, but he had no right to preserve himself anymore. Somehow, his subconscious foolishly thought the Headmaster might just snap his wand, and send him out to work with Hagrid. Or give him a lifetime of detentions. Anything was better than a Dementer's Kiss or Azkaban. "I don't want to die," he whispered, almost too quietly to hear. 

"Why turn yourself in at all?" Mildly curious. Did nothing shake him? 

"It's not what I signed up for." 

"What did you sign up for?" 

Finally, a question he could meet the Headmaster's eyes with again. "The mystery. The forbidden knowledge. The dark allure. My Lord promised power, as well, but that was incidental for me. I wasn't going to refuse it, but that wasn't my priority." His parents and peers had only encouraged the path with their teachings and propaganda, but that wasn't what the Headmaster asked. Severus was willing to take full responisbility for his choice. 

"And these were not granted?" 

Severus made a noise that passed for a bitter laugh. "I got the forbidden knowledge until I surpassed my teachers. The rest was just a front for what we really are." 

"Which is?" 

"Puppets. Our Lord pulls our strings and we dance. He has the power. We've none. There's no mystery. Just random acts of murder and torture. There's no dark allure. Just blood and punisment and guilt. Of course, I seem to be the only one of us to realize this. Not that I've mentioned it to any of the others. That's a slow and messy way to suicide. But I don't want to be his puppet any longer." 

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a long moment. "Even if it means Azkaban?" 

Severus couldn't quite stop a flinch. He continued to meet the Headmaster's gaze though. "I'm here, aren't I? I know what the punishment is for using the Unforgivables." 

"Would you consider dancing to two puppeteers instead?" 

Severus frowned. "I haven't enjoyed one, and he wouldn't like giving me up. Who are the two you're thinking about?" 

"Your current one and myself." 

Severus felt his eyes widening and his blood draining from his face. "You want me to go back disloyal? As a spy?" 

"We need one." 

"I won't go to Azkaban?" 

"I'll vouch for you myself." 

Severus nodded slowly, thinking it over. It would be more than dangerous. Likely suicidal. But there was the slim chance he could help end it all and be allowed to live a normal life. Though his eyes had never left the Headmaster's, they had briefly turned inward. Now, they focused back on him. "So be it." 

The Headmaster smiled tightly. "You'll need this," he said, offering the ebony wand back. 

Almost reluctantly, Severus accepted it. "You should have broken it." 

"Mayhap," the Headmaster said, though his tone clearly indicated his doubt. He turned quietly thoughtful again, a practice Severus was quickly learning to dislike. "My potions master was killed end of last term, and I haven't found a replacement, yet." He arched a white eyebrow. "Interested?" 

"Me?" He was too stunned to keep the incredulity from his voice and expression. 

"You are more than qualified on the subject." 

"I'm a Death Eater! I can't be a Hogwarts professor!" 

The Headmaster cocked his head to the side, as if Severus had said something remarkably odd. "Whyever not?" 

Severus could only stare wordlessly at him. Mad. If he hadn't thought so before, he was sure of it now. 

"It's perfect really," the crazy old man continued, "You can keep an eye on me, for your other master. I'm available for you to report to, without raising his suspicions. Perfect." He didn't mention that Severus would be there for _Dumbledore_ to keep an eye on, but Severus heard it anyway. 

He had only one objection left to the insane notion. "I've only just turned twenty, Headmaster." 

"Ah! Good! I won't have you retiring on me anytime soon." Completely loony, without doubt. 

"If you insist, I'm sure I can talk my - my other master into it." 

"Splendid!" The old man gave a sharp nod, which Severus understood to be a dismissal. He rose to his feet, and turned toward the door. "And Severus." He turned back to the Headmaster, raising a black eyebrow. "If at all possible, try to avoid the Unforgivables in the future." 

Severus incline his head marginally. "I will try." The words _But I offer no promises_ hung in the air between them, unspoken. 

"That is all I can ask. I will send you a letter accepting you to the faculty shortly." 

Severus nodded. "Kindly wait one week, so I can ease, ah, Him, into the idea. Make it seem like his own." 

"Very well, then." 

* * *

**August 31, 1979**

One day until term began. One day until the first day of his teaching career. He hadn't even stepped inside Hogwarts since that night almost three weeks ago. Well, he was about to now. He scowled back at where his luggage should have been, but it had already disappeared. He couldn't even yell at the House Elves to get a move on. Just himself. He summoned his courage and stepped inside through the large front doors. 

It wasn't quite as enormous as he remembered from first year, but it was still huge. And empty, for another 24 blessed hours. "S-Severus?" 

He jumped, and spun towards the voice. Not entirely empty then. There were professors around. "Professor Flitwick," he greeted the little creature politely, and hoped word of his gaping at the front hall like a pitiful first year would not spread. 

"What are you doing here?" The tiny professor's voice held equal parts suspicion and curiosity. 

Clearly, Headmaster Dumbledore had not informed the faculty about their newest member. "Potions professor." Merlin, that sounded pretentious. He was barely done being a _student._

Apparently, Professor Flitwick agreed. "You?" he asked, the word startled out of him, before he could try to be diplomatic. 

Severus sneered, "Indeed." He had sneered at a professor. He'd done it before, but it had always been followed immediately with either point deductions or a detention. 

Professor Flitwick looked taken aback for a moment, catching himself barely from doing one or both of those things. "But you're S- so young," he protested, though Severus was sure that had not been his first objection. 

"You can distiguish me from the seventh years by the fact that I no longer wear a Slytherin badge," he noted drily, almost enjoying Professor Flitwick's discomfort. He hoped the three years difference in age afforded some other proof as well, or he would likely have a great deal of difficulty controlling that class. Though he did have his reputation to help him. They had known, or at least, had heard of him, as a student. Aside for Potter and gang, most people had been reluctant to cross him three years ago. With the powers of being a Professor backing him, they'd surely be terrified. He gave Professor Flitwick a small tight smile that barely passed as friendly, and stalked past him, toward the dungeon rooms the House Elves had told him were his. 

He arrived early to his first staff meeting that evening. More to get a sense of the older professors' individual reactions to him, than because of his normal penchant for punctuality. He was the first in the Staff room, though it was less than a minute later when Professor McGonagall arrived. She looked only mildly surprised to see him. "Severus." 

"Professor." 

She quirked a smile at him. "You may call me Minerva, now, you know, Severus." Call Professor McGonagall by her first name? That was . . . that was . . . well, it wasn't conceivable. It was just wrong. Severus knew he had trouble telling whether something was wrong or not, but he was sure _that_ was. It was like call his lord 'Tom' but worse. 

Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because she laughed. He'd have to work on that if he was going to survive this spy thing. As it was, having Professor McGonagall giggling at him was bad enough. "You should see the long on your face, Severus," she breathed. He supposed she was right. Then he could make a note not to ever put it into that configuration again. "Is the thought of using my name really that awful?" She was so thoroughly amused, it was sickening. 

Fortunately, Professor Flitwick chose that moment to enter, thus saving Severus from answering her question. "Minerva," the tiny professor greeted his collegue warmly, then turned to the room's other occupant. "Severus," he said neutrally. 

"Hello, Felton," McGonagall returned, equally warm. 

"Professor." Which, of course, set her off laughing again. Severus sat stiffly in his chair, trying not to look or feel offended. 

"Something amusing, Minerva?" a deep voice asked, as another person stepped into the room. By the his dubious inflection, he apparently didn't truly believe anything in the world was amusing. He inclined his head toward Flitwick and Severus. 

"Nothing you'd enjoy, Ignatius," she snapped back, her previous mirth vanished. So. The Gryffindor-Slytherin Heads of House really didn't get along. That was mildly disheartening. As a student, he had almost believed their act of tolerance. 

The remaining professors arrived as a group, followed by the Headmaster, and the meeting commensed. Dumbledore cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention then began, "First off, I'd like to introduce you all to our new Potions Professor. I believe you all know Severus Snape." The Headmaster smiled warmly at him, eyes twinkling merrily. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, Professor Snape." 

Severus's sneer froze, only half-formed. Professor Snape? He was Professor Snape, now, wasn't he? He wasn't sure if his parents would laugh or cry if they could see him now. And if it was the latter, would it be from pride or disappointment? Professor Snape, indeed. Though he'd never admit it to anyone, he did feel proud. He was a Hogwarts professor, the youngest one in at least a century, though he'd need to check that to be sure. 

The ironic thing of it all was, of course, that if he hadn't been a Death Eater first, he wouldn't have gotten it. 

By the time he recovered from being addressed as Professor Snape, the Headmaster had moved on to other, more tedious details.   
  
  
TBC . . .   
  
Please review? 


	2. Chapter 2

  


A Marked Man  
By Kris Daniels

  
  


* * *

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts, and all else you recognize are sadly not mine. They belong to JK Rowlings. 

Summary: Severus Snape comes to teach at Hogwarts, and Minerva McGonagall accidently discovers his secret. 

Note on Time: Based on the assumption that Voldemort was first defeated Halloween, 1981, and the first HP book began in 1991. 

* * *

  
**September 1, 1979**

The Welcoming Feast was the first time Severus sat with the rest of the faculty at the Staff Table in the the Great Hall. He supposed he should have joined them there for lunch or breakfast, if only to accustom himself to the feeling of wrongness before he became a display for the student body. He wasn't suposed to sit _here_. His place was two-thirds down the Slytherin table. Where a group of second years was currently sitting. 

He sneered in vaguely their direction. He found it mildly entertaining that no one who could remember him dared take his spot, even three years after he was gone. His gaze already on their table, he noted an increasing number of looks and fingers pointing in his direction among the Slytherins, spreading out from students he still mentally recognized fourth years, though by now, they had reached their seventh year. Fourth years. Merlin, three years seemed a much larger gap when he had been a seventh year himself. With luck, it still looked big to them. 

Severus didn't much believe in luck anymore. 

Feeling desperate, but not letting any of it into his expression, he coolly regarded the other staff. Beside him, Professor Wallsby, the Head of Slytherin House, scowled alternately at his empty plate and the students in general. His former Head hadn't said more than two words to him since he arrived, which Severus took as a good sign. He might have reservations, but if he'd had serious doubts, he'd have said something. 

On Wallsby's other side was Professor McGonagall's empty chair. Despite her irritating habit of laughing whenever he addressed her, she seemed to have accepted him for the most. But then, she had served as Dumbledore's Deputy Headmistress since Severus's third year. No doubt she was used to the Headmaster's quirks. The appointment of a twenty-year-old professor was just one more in a long line of oddities, thus making it normal. Of course, she didn't know he was also a Death Eater, which would surely shake even her faith in the Headmaster's choice. 

Blimey, the age thing alone had him almost more terrified of being a teacher than he was of being a Death Eater traitor. 

He dismissed that line of thought as counter-productive, and looked beyond the Gryffindor Head's chair to Dumbledore himself. The old man was looking in his direction. When he caught Severus's gaze, he nodded and smiled encouragingly. The friendly gesture was returned with a glower. Curse the man for thinking Severus was nervous. Even if he was right. Severus looked away, in time to see Professor McGonagall lead the first years into the Great Hall. 

They looked tiny. Nine years was still a huge age difference as far as Severus was concerned. Those students, he had no difficulty with labeling as 'children'. He easily considered himself 'old' by comparison. For them, he could be Professor Snape, and not just Severus. 

The Sorting went by without incident. He clapped for the new Slytherins, sneered faintly at the new Gryffindors, and ignored the new Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Flitwick gave him a hard look at this blatant favoritism, but he ignored it. It was all well and good for Ravenclaws to profess objectivity, but Slytherins didn't work that way. 

Dumbledore introduced him as the new Potions professor once the first years had all been sorted out. The older Slytherins lead the cheer, which made the other three Houses regard him with distrust. Either that or their older students spread rumours of their own. 

Time passed as it is wont to do, and eventually the meal came to an end, and the students left the hall. Severus leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. He had felt like he was on display for the entire time. Every time he had happened to glance toward the long student tables, he'd found at least a half a dozen people staring at him. It made his stomach queasy and he'd been half afraid to eat for fear of bringing it back up. He had spent the entire time pushing his vegtables around his plate, pretending to eat, and sipping very slowly at his pumpkin juice. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. That alone identified his visitor. "Can I quit yet, Headmaster?" 

The old wizard chuckled, as if he thought Severus was joking. "Give your nerves a week to settle down." 

"Even if I do nothing but brew in my rooms, I'll need that long." 

The hand squeezed reassuringly. At least, Severus assumed that was the Headmaster's intention. He didn't feel at all reassured by it. "I'm sure you'll do fine, Severus." The hand went away, and so did the presence behind him. 

He lifted his head and looked around again. Most of the teachers had already left, though McGonagall stood by the door as if waiting for someone. As he passed her, she fell into step beside him. "The first week's the worst," she told him, though if she meant it as reassurance, she failed even worse than Dumbledore had. 

"Since I have yet to survive my first week, that does not make me feel any better. The first dinner was hard enough and all I had to do was eat." 

"Which you did not do very well, from what I saw." She smiled. Again, a failed attempt to reassure. These people should just give it up. They weren't any good at it. "You get used to being watched, and it'll lessen for you soon enough. You're new, and very young for a professor. The students are bound to be curious initially." 

* * *

**September 8, 1979**

He found quickly that a sharp tongue and liberal use of point deductions and detentions kept even the seventh years in line. By the end of the first week, he felt almost confident in his new role. At least, in regards to the students. The other teachers were another matter entirely. He stood outside the faculty lounge and took a moment to compose himself before pushing the door open and stepping into his second staff meeting. 

Ever the early arrivals, McGonagall and Flitwick were both already there. He nodded to each of them, avoiding calling them by either name or title. As an act of self-defense, he had found this to be the ideal solution to addressing his collegues. If McGonagall laughed herself to death, Dumbledore might have turned him in for killing his deputy headmistress. 

Soon enough, the remaining professors arrived, and Dumbledore called the meeting to order. Sprout soon made official complaint about her students' reports of blatant favoritism in the potions classroom. 

Severus sneered. "Can I help it if Hufflepuffs are all dunderheads?" 

This, needless to say, did not endear himself to any of his collegues, and he was soundly ignored for the rest of the staff meeting, and indeed, much of the next week. Which was just as well, because a Death Eater meeting the next night had put him in an especially sour mood, making even Dumbledore steer clear of him once his report was tendered.   
  
  
_TBC . . .   
  
Sorry it's so short. Next will be longer. Please review? _


	3. Chapter 3

  


A Marked Man  
By Kris Daniels

  
  


* * *

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts, and all else you recognize are sadly not mine. They belong to JK Rowlings. 

Summary: Severus Snape comes to teach at Hogwarts, and Minerva McGonagall accidently discovers his secret. 

Note on Time: Based on the assumption that Voldemort was first defeated Halloween, 1981, and the first HP book began in 1991. 

* * *

  
**September 17, 1979**

Two weeks of school had finished, and the third was just beginning. Severus looked out over his first class of the day: seventh year Gryffindor-Slytherins. After a few close calls, he had finally broken the habit of calling the Slytherins by their first names. He had always called the members of other Houses by their last name; the only difficulty now was remembering to throw in the "Mister" or "Miss" when they weren't actively annoying him. 

He knew he had an advantage over any other new teacher Dumbledore might have hired. As a former prefect, he knew perfectly well who the troublemakers were in the seventh, sixth, fifth, and fourth year classes. 

"_Mister_ Blake," his sharp voice cut through the quiet bubbling of cauldrons. "Move your hand one inch closer to the fireworks in your bag and you will not have a day without detention until you leave Hogwarts." The Gryffindor blanched, and swiftly changed the direction of his arms movement to pick up a dropped lacewing. 

"I was only picking up my wing, Professor." He had gotten over being called a professor fairly quickly, though for some of the older Slytherins and Gryffindors is sometimes sounded forced or mocking. Because it was one of the few offenses he removed points for on Slytherins, it was becoming less common, lately. Disrespect to a teacher was worth twenty points regardless of House. Particularly severe cases would also receive the most unpleasant detention he could device. Severus was a creative man. 

"Ten points from Gryffindor for lying to a teacher, Mister Blake." 

Blake scowled but did not try to deny it further. 

After that class, the rumour of his ability to read minds was born. When McGonagall passed it back to him, he could only smirk. He made a concentrated effort to pay close enough attention to his students to be able to maintain the belief. He began to stalk the hallways at night not only to catch students out of bed - which was always good for the House point count - but also to see if he could overhear anything that he might use to further foster that impression. 

Picking up on and remembering useless facts about teenagers turned out to be remarkably good practice for noticing and recalling details that he had never picked up on before at Death Eater meetings. 

Death Eater Quentin Avery, for example, pulled at his sleeves in exactly the same way as sixth year Bruce Paquette in Ravenclaw when he was completely clueless about a topic, but working his tongue about it anyway. Lucius Malfoy had a remarkable habit of tilting his head to the left when he was nervous. Jacqueline Lestrange had a tendency to shift her weight when she disagreed with something, and nod fractionally when she agreed. 

It made finding weaknesses in the ranks much simpler. 

A pensieve allowed him to observe his own mannerisms and school himself to display them only by conscious decision. 

He refined his intuition and observational skills to such a sharp edge that, by December, even Malfoy had once wondered if perhaps he had developed the Sight. 

His fellow teachers noticed, too. McGonagall and Dumbledore congratulated him on taking such a personal interest in the pupils. As if he had ever used the information he had gathered for any purpose other than intimidation or to prevent troublemaking. Flitwick admitted he was impressed by Severus's deductive ability, and requested a game of chess against him. (Severus was somewhat astonished to find that beating the little professor soundly was the fast track to the Ravenclaw's respect and friendship.) Wallsby, the Slytherin Head of House, on the opposite end of the spectrum, began to eye him with suspicion and did his best to avoid Severus at every opportunity. 

* * *

**January 6, 1980**

It was the last day before Christmas hols were over. Wallsby, the DADA teacher, would not be back from Albania until midnight. But a boggart had been stumbled upon in a little used maintenance closet. Filch had gone into it for some cleaning supplies and was still in the Hospital wing for a severe panic attack. Reportedly, he kept muttering about children laughing and fluffy pink bunnies. 

Severus and McGonagall were sent to dispatch the creature. The closet was in a dusty, disused classroom on the third floor. McGonagall looked at him, asking, "What will it turn into if you see it first?" 

Severus frowned, not wanting to share his greatest fears with her, but knowing it was pertinent. "Three years ago it would have been a werewolf. I honestly can't say if that will still be it. It is equally likely to be a Dementor now. What would you see?" 

"A dog. A very large dog." When he gave her an odd look, she reminded him, "My animangus form is a cat." 

Deciding that a large dog was somewhat less dangerous and easier to turn into something ridiculous than a werewolf, McGonagall stepped forward and opened the closet. 

When she had said 'a large dog' Severus had pictured something about the size of a black Labrador. This dog was not. He had seen smaller centaurs. In his surprise, Severus forgot to cast the spell. McGonagall shrieked and retreated before the monster. Then it turned its attention to Severus, and, with a loud crack, the beast was gone. Both professors stared in confusion at its new form. 

Albus Dumbledore stepped toward Severus, smiling inanely. Severus tried desperately to think of a way to make the old wizard wearing a blue robe with shiny stars and moons look any more ridiculous than he was already. McGongall was apparently too befuddled to help him out. When the boggart reached out and took Severus's left arm in a firm, almost bruising grip, he realized just what fear the creature had decided to mold itself to. His mind went blank and his mouth went dry. 

His sleeve was shoved back. "I have made a mistake. Your wand, Death Eater." He held out his hand expectantly. 

Wand! Yes! He was supposed to use his wand! He jerked away and cast the spell. Dumbledore was suddenly wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt, equally loud and clashing shorts, a Death Eater mask that his beard poked out beneath, one beach sandal, one black formal shoe, and a tattoo around his ankle that proclaimed "Salazar + Godric Best Friends 4ever" 

McGonagall's eyes nearly popped out of her head, and she began laughing. It wasn't humourous laughter, but it was laughter none-the-less. It turned toward the sound, irritated, and snapped back into the dog. This time Severus was ready for it, and got off another "Riddikulus!" Large pink bows gathered tufts of the dark fur into clumps, and the handle of a basket holding several happily sleeping kittens was held between its teeth. The giant canine looked confused, and Severus smirked superiorly at it. McGonagall began laughing harder, and the boggart exploded, leaving only wisps of smoke to mark its passage. 

She recovered quickly. His sleeve had fallen back over his Mark, but she still stared at the arm. "Pull it up," she told him. It was a tone she hadn't used on him since seventh year. He did as instructed. 

"Headmaster Dumbledore already knows," Severus told her, wondering why he so desperately wanted her to believe him. "I swear, me being a teacher was his idea." 

She . . . snorted. It was a very unladylike and unMcGonagall thing for her to have done, and Severus's felt the rest of his panicked explanation die on his tongue. "It would have to be," she agreed, sounding more exasperated than anything else now. Then her eyes narrowed. "Obviously, you've turned yourself in, or the boggart wouldn't have asked for your wand _back_." Severus nodded shortly. "The night I opened the side door for Albus. That's when you confessed and he came up with this crazy scheme." Severus nodded again. She sighed. "He'll confirm all this?" 

A small knife twisted in his gut. She didn't believe him. No upstanding witch or wizard who knew the truth was ever going to take him at his word again, not without looking to Dumbledore for confirmation first. "Yes, Professor." 

She did not even crack a smile this time. In fact, she seemed to have forgotten that he was no longer a student. She looked at him, somehow managing to look down at him despite being six inches shorter, and pursed her lips in severe disapproval and disappointment. "Come, we are going to have an extended conversation with Albus." 

"Yes, Professor." He quietly followed her to the Headmaster's office. 

He had always thought he would have to be older before he could revisit his childhood. 

* * *

When they reached Dumbledore's office, he was surprised to find the two older professors completely ignored him. He retreated against a wall of the room (there were no convenient corners), feeling decidedly out-of-place. 

McGonagall marched right up to the Headmaster's desk, and planted fists on it's wooden surface, glaring daggers at the mild looking old man sitting behind it. "Something wrong, Minerva?" 

"Something is very wrong, Albus. The boy is a Death Eater." 

Dumbledore's eyes flickered toward him, but he continued to address McGonagall. "He was," he agreed lightly, with subtle emphasis on the past tense. 

"Do you know what form his boggart took, Albus? You." 

The Headmaster blinked in surprise, and shot a startled glance in Severus's direction. Severus looked away, the faintest hint of a blush on his skin. "Just me, or me doing something specific?" Albus asked. 

McGonagall sighed, but answered truthfully. "You pushed his sleeve up, told him you had made a mistake, and asked for his wand back." 

Severus felt the heavy blue eyes of the Headmaster on him again. He dared not look up, and did his best impression of Being A Wall. He had thought he hated the idea of people talking about him behind his back. Upon second consideration, he would take that anyday over people he respected talking about his greatest insecurities as he listened. 

"You do not believe that proves his good intentions?" Severus looked up sharply. Did Dumbledore truly believe that? But the twinkling eyes were impossible to read. The Headmaster's nonverbal tells were always under as much discipline as Severus's usually were. 

"If he were betraying you," McGonagall began, "it would justify the boggart's hostile attitude." 

"Fears are not always rational," the Headmaster remarked mildly. Severus relaxed marginally. 

McGonagall was not convinced, but she dropped that objection for another. "Albus, how can you let a Death Eater, former or otherwise, teach children?" 

"He is a fully certified Potions Master, Minerva. He is more than qualified." 

"It is not his academic qualifications I question, Albus! The boy is a murderer!" He flinched, and took a deep interest in the pattern of the rug. 

"He poses no danger to the students." He heard a drawer open, and the sound of shuffling paper, then an unexpected clink of glass vials. The drawer closed, and a vial was placed on the desk. Severus looked up, his curiosity piqued. But the vial of clear liquid made him regret it. He drew in a calming breath, and resigned himself to what he knew was coming. "Would his word under Veritaserum put your worries to rest, Minerva?" 

He endured her scrutiny for several moments before she nodded. "It will do." 

"Severus?" Dumbledore held out the vial. As Severus took the vial and unstoppered it, the Headmaster added, "I am sorry, but it is necessary, child." Severus nodded his understanding. He was Marked. Branded as one of Voldemort's own. He would always live with that stigma. Even if he managed to convince someone that he was against the Dark Lord, the proof was on his arm that he had turned coat once. Who was to say he would not do it again? 

He drank the truth potion. 

They waited a few moments to let it take affect. "What is your name?" 

"Severus Snape." 

"How old are you?" 

"Twenty." 

"Were you once a Death Eater?" Well, that was subtle. 

"Yes." 

"Are you one now?" 

He hesitated, the potion trying to find the true answer to the deceptively simple-sounding question. "Yes." 

McGongall drew in a sharp breath. "It was a literal answer, Minerva," Dumbledore assured her, "Let me rephrase the question. Are you still loyal to Voldemort?" 

_Better_. "No." 

"Are you loyal to me?" 

"Yes." 

"Are you safe to leave children with?" 

_Merlin, Dumbledore, what do you think? Be more specific._ "No." 

McGongall frowned, and Dumbledore looked surprised. "Have the children in your classes ever come to harm because of you?" 

_Open-ended question, Albus. _ "Yes." 

He was starting to look worried. "When?" 

_Thank you._ "First year Hufflepuff, Samantha Shaver, burst into tears when I called her an idiot. Third year Ravenclaw, Matthew Davis, cut his finger chopping beetles when I didn't notice he was doing it wrong. Second year Slytherin, Belinda Wilkes, had an allergic reaction to -" 

"Stop." He sounded relieved. "Why are you unsafe to leave children with?" 

_Much better. _ "I don't like them, I wouldn't know what to do with them, and I haven't the first clue about how to care for an infant." 

The Headmaster blinked. "How did you define 'leave children with'?" 

_Good._ "Indefinitely. Foster care, adoption, parenting. Baby-sitting to a lesser degree." 

Confidence back, Dumbledore asked, "Is it safe to leave you in charge of a potions classroom?" 

_As safe as it is to leave anyone in charge of a potions classroom. _ "Yes." 

"You have no intention to hurt, kill, kidnap, or otherwise cause harm to the students of this school?" 

_Of course not. What kind of monster do you take me for?_ "No." 

"What is your opinion of the students at this school?" 

_You did not just ask me that._ "Hopeless idiots. They should all fail potions." 

Dumbledore smiled brightly at McGonagall. "You see? Perfectly harmless." 


End file.
